CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“H
APPY NOW
?” Jack shut the jail cell door with a resounding clang.
Kylie looked at him from the inside, eyes wide behind those sexy librarian glasses. “Am I under arrest?”
“You broke the law.” Jaw tight, he pocketed the key. For the umpteenth time, he imagined her scaling that tower, alone, in the dark. She could’ve fallen and broken her damned neck. That thought had steered him back to the station instead of her trailer. Shaking things up was one thing. Putting her life at risk was another.
On the scene, he’d harnessed his emotions, falling back on his training and experience. He’d handled Kylie with professional detachment. Except for the kiss and the promise to fuck her senseless. Right now, he was mad as hell.
“But—”
“Trespassing. Vandalism.” Jack crossed his arms, glowered. “Surely you knew there’d be consequences to your actions.”
“I didn’t plan on getting caught.”
“Aside from the obvious—that doesn’t make it right—you shouldn’t have broadcast your presence.”
She gripped the bars and raised her voice. “I dressed to blend with the night!”
True. Black jeans, black sneakers and a black hooded sweatshirt. Even her hair was black, a drastic change from this afternoon’s tropical orange. Still… “You lit up the tower like a Christmas tree, Tiger.”
Two people had phoned E911 reporting lights and movement on the town’s water tower. Mrs. Carmichael, who had insomnia and a vivid imagination, had called in a jumper.
“But I needed the headlamp to see when I climbed,” Kylie explained, “and the additional lantern so I could see what I was painting!”
Her reasoning was almost humorous. “You shouldn’t have been on the tower in the first place. Jesus, Kylie. You risked your neck to paint one frickin’ red apple yellow?”
“It’s symbolic!”
“Of what?” Jack asked.
“Of me! Just because I live in paradise, that doesn’t mean I have to look or behave like all the other apples on the tree!”
Jack rubbed a hand over his face. He was attracted to a lunatic. “Is that why you keep changing your hair color?”
She shrugged, then tightened her sleek ponytail. “Not that this is much better, but those orange streaks were a hideous mistake.”
“I thought they were interesting. Or maybe it was the whole package. Dress. Heels. Beret. You had a sexy Parisian thing going on.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
“I think you’re trouble.”
Her tantalizing lips curved into a flirty grin. “You want me.”
“That’s a separate issue.”
“One we’ll explore when I’m out of the clink?”
He refused to smile. “This is serious, Kylie.”
She furrowed her brow. “What’s the charge?”
“Criminal mischief.” There’d been no formal arrest, but he did want to deter further dumb-ass behavior. She’d been angling to get herself thrown in jail for days. Maybe a few hours behind bars would scratch that itch. That and making the headlines tomorrow.
“Jack,” she said when he turned to leave. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Wanting to make her squirm, he said, “You’ll be sorrier when Spenser finds out.”
I
T WAS WRONG
. Carrying on in public. But thrilling. Some sort of kinky fantasy come to life. The prisoner being felt up by the warden.
No. Not warden. Police chief.
Jack had her handcuffed to the jail cot. He’d stripped her naked. He was taking advantage. Taking his time.
“Kylie.”
“Stop teasing, Jack. Touch me. Make me—”
“Wake up.”
Wake up?
Her body tingled with pleasures she’d never known. His hands. His mouth. She moaned, flexed.
“You’re killing me, hon.”
A gentle shake broke the spell. Kylie fought her way through an erotic haze and reluctantly opened her eyes.
Jack
.
His blue gaze smoldered with something that only intensified the ache between her legs. “You were dreaming.”
Dreaming?
Bleary-eyed, she pushed herself to her elbows and squinted at her surroundings. She was exactly where she’d been for the past several heart-pounding minutes. In a jail cell, on a bed, with Jack. Only now they were fully clothed. And he wasn’t sprawled on top of her. He was sitting beside her.
Her cheeks burned. “I…I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“Between the late hour and the water tower escapade, I’m not surprised. You must be exhausted.” He stroked her cheek…then abruptly stood.
“I manage the attraction better when I’m not touching you.”
Smiling to herself, Kylie groped for her glasses.
“Someone showed to speak in your defense.”
“Faye?”
“Max.”
“Grogan?”
“Is there another Max in Eden?”
Kylie swung her legs over the cot, feeling disoriented. “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.”
Faye was no doubt asleep and oblivious to the tower episode. If she knew Kylie was in jail, she would’ve come.
Or maybe not.
Kylie was still reeling from her friend’s angry outburst.
“The old guy got home and had a guilt attack,” Jack said of Max. “He’s worried the HPS pushed you over the edge. He called the mayor. The mayor called me.”
Kylie blinked. “So they’re going to reverse their decision about McGraw’s?”
“No. But where the tower’s concerned, there’ll be no formal charges.”
She frowned. “Oh.”
“That’s a good thing, Tiger.” He guided her into the administrative office.
The smell of strong coffee permeated the air. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Kylie saw Bo Hooper answering the phone and Max standing nearby looking sheepish.
“Max insists on giving you a ride home.”
Kylie glanced up at Jack, his sexy promise and that erotic dream fresh in her mind. “Oh, but…”
“It’s for you, Chief,” said Hooper. “Your sister. Wants to make sure you’re okay.”
“Be right there.”
“Guess that means you two are on good terms,” said Kylie.
“Better terms. Jessie and Maddie are staying with me for a while.”
Which meant she wouldn’t be getting down and dirty with Jack at his place. “Heard that through the grapevine. But I don’t believe everything I hear.”
Jack regarded her with a strange smile. “Neither do I.”
Kylie fidgeted. Had he heard something about her? But of course he had. The question was, what? Hyperaware of Hooper and Max looking on, she wasn’t about to ask. “I guess I should go.”
Boy, this was awkward. They’d shared a passionate kiss on the tower, yet she felt timid about instigating a chaste kiss good-night. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to shake his hand. Instead, she nodded. “Thanks again for, you know, rescuing me.”
“My pleasure.”
She moved to leave, but Jack grasped her fingers.
“Would you have dinner with me tonight?”
She blinked.
“We’re well into Saturday morning,” he clarified.
“I know. I just…” Her heart fluttered. “You mean like a date?”
“Unless you have other plans.”
Sheer willpower kept her from hopping with joy. “Are you kidding? I mean…” A date was more special than just a lusty boink. And would probably
lead
to the lusty boink. Had she croaked after all and gone to heaven?
Hooper cleared his throat, waggled the receiver.
Max grunted. “She’d love to have dinner with you. Damn, Kylie. No wonder your social life stinks.” He gestured to the door. “Can we go now?”
Flustered, she smiled at Jack, said good-night to Bo, then hurried out into the still night with her crotchety, but good-hearted neighbor.
Max chuckled under his breath as he helped her into his Ford pickup. “Bet you’re not sorry you’re stuck in Eden now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“W
HAT’S ON YOUR MIND
, Mr. Mancini?”
Carmine resented Dr. Bennett’s calm tone. She knew he’d had another attack this morning. He’d been this close to shaking hands with St. Peter. He didn’t care what the resident at the emergency room had said. He’d had a fuckin’ heart attack, brought on by his nephew’s shocking news and another one of those prophetic nightmares. But, because he was a stubborn motherfucker, he did not succumb. Yet.
“I’m dying, Doc.”
“You’re not dying, Mr. Mancini.”
“Not at this particular moment. But it is in my future.”
She remained expressionless. “Death is in everyone’s future.”
“You’re a cold bitch.”
“Not cold, Mr. Mancini. Realistic.”
He grunted at that.
“Are you comfortable?”
He’d surrendered to the couch. The piece of psychobabble furniture he’d sworn he’d never touch. Only this morning, he’d been so desperate, he’d reclined and clung to the tapestry-covered sofa like it was his anchor to earth. “Everything said here is confidential, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Not that this is about me. I have this friend. Joe.”
“Is Joe troubled by something?”
“He is. You see, there was this man, this family member, a brother, actually.”
“Go on.”
“This brother, uh, Art, he was weak, but kind and smart. So Joe took him under his wing, gave him a place in the…world. Things were good for a while. Great, even. Until he learned something about Art. Something unholy. Something that could not be tolerated. So Joe, in his disgust and anger, disowned his little brother.”
“That must have been difficult,” said Dr. Bennett.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “So Joe told me.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t want to get into specifics, but word got out to some…business partners. Men who’d worked closely with Art.”
“About Art’s unholy behavior,” she guessed.
“That’s right. Things got ugly. Real ugly. In retaliation, Art broke a promise. A sacred promise, Doc.”
“He betrayed someone.”
“He betrayed family.” Carmine ignored the pain in his chest. He had to get through this. Time was of the essence. “Breaking this particular oath is unforgivable.”
“Perhaps circumstances—”
“Right is right and wrong is wrong.”
She lifted a brow. “No gray areas?”
He twisted his pinkie ring. “Typically no. Thing is, these
partners
acted without permission.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“You don’t need to. Let’s just say that their wrong was as bad as Art’s wrong. They were…reprimanded.”
“What happened to Art?”
“He went on the lam, uh, into hiding.”
“How did Joe feel about that?”
“Relieved. It meant he didn’t have to…deal with his brother’s betrayal.”
Joe
wasn’t pissed about the shitload of money Art had stolen from him—well, at least not anymore. Considering the fallout, Art sort of deserved the dough. But the other thing… The stupid bastard had ratted to the feds about the Gambelli family. Past rivals Joe had worked hard to make peace with in order to conduct joint business. Art had broken
omertà
, a transgression punishable by death.
“Sounds like Joe loved his brother, even though he disowned him.”
“He realized the bond was still there when he heard those fucks had beaten Art within a fraction of his life. If it weren’t for Art’s wife…” Carmine sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “In hindsight, Joe wishes he would’ve handled things differently. Wishes he would have been more…”
“Tolerant?”
“Yeah. Tolerant. He’s thinking maybe he should make peace with his brother before, well, before one of them bites the big one. If you know what I’m saying.”
“Hmm.”
“Joe’s ma blames him for putting the younger brother in harm’s way. She keeps telling him to make it right. Otherwise, he’ll burn in hell.”
“Does Joe believe that?”
He cut her a look. “How would I know?”
She didn’t answer.
Carmine sniffed. “Anyway, last night Joe received information that could ultimately pinpoint his brother’s location. This presents a dilemma.”
“Why is that?”
Was she really so dense? She knew
the world
he circulated in. “Use your imagination, Doc.”
“That’s not helpful, Mr. Mancini.”
Damn. Just thinking about this gave him
agita
. “Joe is honor-bound to…address his brother’s betrayal. Failing to do so would mean disgrace.”
“Couldn’t he address the betrayal by forgiving him?”
“Not an acceptable solution.”
“What if Joe ignored this information and didn’t seek out his brother?”
“Others would.”
“Thereby taking the pressure, the responsibility, the moral repercussions off of Joe.”
This time Carmine held silent.
She tapped her pencil on her pad. “What is Joe going to do?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“What is he waiting for? Looking for?”
He didn’t know. Carmine rubbed his tight chest, considered. “A sign.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
K
YLIE WOKE WITH A START
, squinted at her bedside clock. “Crap!” She never slept this late! Not even on her days off. Although the store was closed for renovations and she hadn’t told Travis she’d be in at any particular time, she felt guilty because she just
knew
he was hard at work. The man was abnormally driven. At the rate he was going, she’d be able to reopen ahead of schedule. All she was waiting for were the new shoes she’d ordered.
Somewhat recovered from yesterday, she sprang out of bed…and winced. “Ow.”
Every muscle in her body screamed. Partly from her tower escapade. Partly from her motorcycle mishap. She glanced down at her throbbing, discolored thigh. If she got naked with Jack tonight, he’d ask about that bruise, because, man, it was huge and ugly, impossible to miss. “Dang.” She wanted a mind-blowing seduction, not a lecture on safety.
Kylie swiped her tangled hair out of her face and shoved on her glasses. She limped into the living room and checked her phone messages. There were none. No call from Grandma, saying Mom had a feeling something bad had happened. That was good. No call from Spenser, asking what the frig was wrong with her? Which meant Jack hadn’t contacted him about the tower. Also good. No call from Faye, saying, I’m sorry I freaked out or can we talk about this?
Not so good.
Kylie felt bad about slipping and causing friction between Faye and Stan, but she was also stinging from a few of her friend’s harsh observations. This time Kylie was the one who needed a little time and space. When she next spoke with Faye, she wanted to have a better grip on what she wanted out of life.
Meanwhile, she refused to pout. She had a business to renovate. She had a date. With Jack.
Tonight!
She kicked up her heels…and winced.
Forty minutes later, Kylie was half way to town on her bike. Okay. She was speeding, but if she got pulled over, at least she had her license. Her mood was high…until she spotted the water tower.
She slowed to get a better look. Then jumped the road and took off across an open field to get a
closer
look. “It can’t be.”
But it was.
All of the apples were
red
.
She didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Of course, she’d known someone would cover up her statement, eventually. That water tower was the pride and joy of Eden. But even Spenser’s graffiti love note to Nancy had lasted twenty-four hours before Public Works had painted over it. Had her yellow apple even made it to dawn? Had anyone, aside from the person who painted it red, seen it? Had she risked her neck in vain?
Frustrated and angry, Kylie turned her bike back around and sped toward town.
Someone
was going to get an earful.
A
T
12:20
P.M.
TRAVIS was operating on sheer will, a pot of coffee, Kerri’s cheese Danish and two cans of Coke. He’d been at it since 5:00 a.m. He’d knocked off late last night, thinking he’d sleep like the dead. Only he’d dreamed about sleeping with the fishes. Mona kept shouting,
“Run!”
He’d woken up in a cold sweat twice. It wasn’t that he was a coward, but he didn’t want to die. Not before he sampled what Paris had to offer.
At 3:00 a.m., he’d given up on sleep. He’d showered and dressed, sorted through his closet and drawers. He wouldn’t be taking much with him, just a carry-on suitcase and a briefcase full of essentials, including a phony passport he had in the works. He’d lingered over some of Mona’s belongings, remembering how she’d hated her new persona. Drab hair. Drab wardrobe. Although, she’d once quipped, she’d take drab over dead. On her good days, she’d still been able to joke.
Before his indiscretion, before he’d torn their world apart, she’d been a vibrant personality with a dry sense of humor. After…he wasn’t sure what haunted her more. Seeing her husband savagely beaten and hearing what those gorillas planned to do with his balls or seeing Dutch Gambelli’s head explode when she popped him with the Beretta they kept for emergencies.
Travis swore to himself that, once overseas, he’d celebrate who she’d been born as and not who she’d become because of him. He’d always loved her, in spite of his urges, and in spite of his urges, she’d loved him.
Enough to kill.
The bloody episode remained somewhat fuzzy in Travis’s mind. Through his beaten haze, he faintly remembered Joey the Enforcer bobbling his knife after Mona shot Dutch. Joey went for his gun and Travis grabbed the knife, stabbed. Travis had been close to unconscious at that point, his face as raw as hamburger meat. Mona had been in shock. Soon after, the cops had arrived. Then the feds—the beginning of their end.
Bleary-eyed, Travis focused back on his work. Hands on hips, he turned in all directions, marveling at all he’d accomplished in so little time. For the most part, his work here was finished. All he needed was Kylie’s opinion on the sign. That sign would be her calling card. He didn’t feel right about hanging it until he knew she approved.
He glanced at his watch.
Twelve-forty-five.
Where was she?
K
YLIE BLEW INTO
Boone’s Bar and Grill, knowing Max and gang typically met there for lunch on Saturday afternoons. It had been their routine for the past ten years and sure enough there they were. Max, J.J., Keystone and Mayor Wilson, chowing down on burgers and fries.
“Why?” That’s all she got out. Her throat was clogged with frustration and road dust.
Four of Eden’s most esteemed silver-haired citizens calmly abandoned their Wanda Wonder-Burgers.
“Told ya she’d be peeved,” said J.J.
“I was hoping she’d be thankful,” said Keystone.
Max wagged an arthritic finger. “We did you a favor, kiddo.”
She clenched her fists at her side. “I risked serious injury or—hello—
death
climbing that tower to make a statement. There are all kinds of apples, gentleman. Delicious. Granny. McIntosh. They don’t all look, smell or taste the same. And yet every apple on that tower is red.”
“That’s because the tower represents one tree,” said J.J. “When have you ever seen a yellow and red apple on the same tree?”
Kylie gawked. “That’s not the point.”
“
Your
point isn’t Eden’s point,” said Mayor Wilson.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means don’t sabotage this town just because you’ve got a bug up your butt. That tower is part of Eden’s history. A conversation piece. Starting Monday,” the mayor went on, “people from all over will be driving in and out of Eden for a week’s worth of clean-cut hoopla. We want them talking about the church-sponsored Chicken Noodle Dinner and craft bizarre. The flea market, the Little Miss Eden Pageant, the tractor races and the parade.”
“Don’t forget about the firehouse hog roast,” said Max, “and the car and truck show.”
“The apple pie and cake baking contest, monster arm wrestling and live music in the Pavilion,” said J.J.
“The moonlight sock-hop, square-dancing and carnival rides,” said Keystone.
“Every business in Eden benefits from the Apple Festival,” said the mayor. “People return again and again and spend oodles of money. They return expecting to see the same quaint town and to experience the same old-fashioned fun.”
“Tradition,” said Max.
Mayor Wilson punctuated the air with a French fry. “The
last
thing we want is for folks to leave here lamenting the modernized look of one of the stores on the historical block and a vandalized water tower. We do
not
want folks worrying that Eden’s going to hell in an apple bushel and maybe choosing to go elsewhere next year.”
“The citizens and business folk would not be happy,” said Keystone.
“They’d blame you,” said J.J.
“That’s why we covered up your statement,” said Max.
“We’ve known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper,” said Keystone. “We care about you, Kylie.”
J.J. frowned. “Was a time, you cared about us, too.”
Kylie’s shoulders slumped. How was she supposed to argue with their calm logic? On top of it, like Faye, they made her feel like she’d been insensitive and selfish. “I do care about you,” she said in a soft voice. She’d known these men all her life. All good friends of her grandpa and dad. Good men, period. Until her birthday meltdown, they’d never shared cross words. “I’m still me,” she went on, aware that everyone in the bar was listening. “I’m still…nice. I just want…I want something more. Something different.”
Mayor Wilson raised a bushy brow. “Heard you have a date with Chief Reynolds.”
The four men smiled.
The mayor added, “That’s something more.”
J.J. winked. “That’s different.”
There were murmurs throughout the bar, and Kylie knew everyone was gossiping about the lusty kiss Max and the emergency team had witnessed last night at the tower. Eden’s Busybody Squad may have covered up her artwork, but they couldn’t erase the memory of that kiss. That was something.
“Can we buy you lunch?” J.J. asked.
“Maybe we can help you sort through this life crisis,” said Mayor Wilson.
“Lord knows I’ve had my share of upsets,” said Keystone.
“I’m thinking we should give her some dating tips,” said Max.
Kylie’s cheeks burned. First of all, they thought she needed dating advice? Second: It would be like discussing sex with her grandpa. Self-conscious, she fussed with her ponytail. “Um. Thanks, but—”
“Right off, I’d tell you to let your hair down,” J.J. said.
“In more ways than one,” said Keystone.
“At least it’s no longer orange,” said the mayor.
“The black is sort of nice,” Max said, squinting at her new hair color. “Exotic. Men like exotic.”
“Show some cleavage. Men love that.”
“Maybe you should buy one of the marvel bras.”
“Wonderbras. Good idea.”
“And don’t talk about your past boyfriends. Men hate that.”
“Don’t play hard to get.”
“But don’t be too clingy.”
“Don’t, uh, do the deed on the first date.”
“But don’t wait too long.”
“And make sure Jack wears a rubber,” said Max.
J.J. elbowed him. “The polite term is condom.”
“Or prophylactic,” said Mayor Wilson.
“I always called it a love glove,” said Keystone.
Kylie had wanted to excuse herself the moment the mayor had suggested a marvel bra. Now she wanted to die.
Luckily for her, since she seemed incapable of making her own escape due to paralyzing mortification, a waitress swooped in to save the day. Pushing Kylie out of the spotlight with a gentle hip nudge, she set four bottles of Bud on the table. “Another round of beers, gentlemen.”
“But we didn’t—”
“You’re welcome.” When she turned to leave, she took Kylie with her. “That was rough,” she said in low voice.
Kylie couldn’t believe her eyes. Jessica Lynn? She was dressed down in jeans and a baggy maroon T-shirt that advertised Boone’s Bar and Grill in big white letters. She’d pulled her hair into a simple ponytail and hadn’t bothered with any makeup other than pink lip balm. Surely Jessica Lynn, former pageant queen, snooty wife of a slick lawyer, wasn’t waiting on people?
But sure enough, she was holding a serving tray.
So, she’d finally landed a job. At Boone’s. Wow. Not wanting to embarrass the woman, Kylie focused on Max and gang. “I’m not sure which was worse,” Kylie grumbled. “The part where they cautioned me against ruining Eden or the part where they lectured me on dating?”
“On the other hand,” said Jessica Lynn, “it was also touching.”
“Touching?”
Jessica nodded toward Max and gang. “They spoke and acted out of concern. For you. They respect you. They like you. And rightly so. For as long as I can remember, you always put other people’s needs ahead of your own. I used to think you were a pushover. Then again I was self-centered—so I’m told.” Jessica blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I dissed your family’s shoe store.”
Kylie racked her brain. “Are you talking about the time you called our selection—”
“Yes.”
“That was, I don’t know, ten years ago?”
The woman shrugged. “I’m making up for…I’m making up. I hope. I’m sorry for anything and everything I ever said or did to offend you. As for my brother…and dating…just be yourself.”
She whisked off before Kylie could say
what
or
huh
or
run that by me again
. Jessica Lynn Cortez apologizing for rude behavior? For anything?
In the words of her grandma, the world had gone topsy-turvy.